II

James rubbed the yellow crust out of the corners of his tired eyes and followed Staff Sergeant Murnau, into the top security level clearance corridor at Holy Nazareth Military Academy. A handful of stoic, armed soldiers stood at attention at the end of the corridor, guarding large double doors. Carpenter's pencil-necked warden flashed his badge and credentials towards the statue-esque guards, who saluted the two of them before stepping aside.

James huffed at Murnau. “Just look at all this pomp and circumstance. Next time, try giving my telephone a ring, why don’t you?”

Murnau swung the doors open to reveal a dark room with a circular table. At almost every chair sat high ranking military officials. Two young men of lower rank sat next to the only empty chair.

The big men whispered and exchanged sheepish glances. On one of the walls, a projector screen presented an aerial map of a hilly, wooded area. James took his seat between Murnau and an elderly chap whom he’d not met, with enormous height and girth. He looked like a big walrus with his tanned skin and long, grey mustache.　

Behind him, James noticed a modest, though the room's plebs might’ve called it extravagant, bar with a wall of discount liquors and wine. After being blasted by the afternoon sun, he had a lingering migraine. He held out hope that the higher-ups had prepared for his presence with some blood spirits and gestured to a young staff member behind the counter, the only woman present, to come his way.

Murnau, the type of man who seemed to need an order signed in triplicate in order to relax, flashed an indignant glare towards James as the young woman made her way around the bar counter and over to their seats.

Pish-posh. James paid his grim look no heed as he turned to speak to her. “Be a dear, will you? A glass of O-negative.”

She nodded. “Slightly chilled, as you like it, sir.”

The spritely woman produced a covered wine glass, about one third full with blood, from under the counter. She gracefully hovered the dark, red beverage, over the table. With care, she removed the coaster sitting on the rim of the glass and slid it underneath the foot.

The beverage's aroma hit James’ nostrils immediately: coppery, yet sweet. Unmistakably, a genuine O-negative mixed with merlot. James swirled the substance briefly. Viscous and smooth. It seemed his previous complaints had not fallen on deaf ears.

He lifted the glass and took a good, long sip. As the metallic bloodwine splashed onto his tongue, he briefly felt as though he was floating on the ocean. The strong current of intoxication set his nagging migraine adrift.

“Oh, you are very good.” Sir Carpenter complimented his savior, whose innocent smile and blushing, freckled cheeks now appeared several times more attractive. “Sir James Carpenter, at your service. And who might you be?”

“Oh, charmed…” the woman trailed off and her eyes became fixed upon the entrance of the dark room.

James followed her gaze. A woman who Sir Carpenter, in all of his many, many years, had never seen the like made her quiet entrance. He could tell she came from the Far East. She had long, chestnut-brown hair and an elegant, angular face-- almost feline, locked in a serene expression. James could only find one physical flaw detracting from her beauty, though it was quite obvious: a straight scar, likely from a blade, which stretched diagonally from her left ear down her cheek. The woman wore a strange sort of black, two-piece robe. Two black scabbards, one long and one short, which matched her attire, hung from a sash around her waist. Both scabbards were engraved with silver, serpentine dragons. However, the most striking thing about this woman, to Sir Carpenter anyway, was her scent, which was as bloody as the drink in his hand.

The mystery woman lifted her two strangely-shaped swords-- which James very much yearned to see unsheathed-- and after a dignified bow, slid into the room's empty chair.

The walrus-man stood and cleared his throat. Everyone in the room, most of whom were also gawking at the enigmatic, Asian woman, turned to address him. He gave a spirited salute, lowered his arm, and began his speech.

“Now that we’re all here, let us get down to brass tacks, shall we? For the majority of you all, this will be our first time meeting. I am General Dudley Brown, formerly of the African Division of His Majesty’s Armed Forces. I am the commanding officer of this operation, which henceforth will be known as Operation Aegis. The main objective of Operation Aegis is to terminate this man…”

General Brown gestured to the projectionist, who flipped slides to show a bald, serious-looking, muscular vampire. Several slides of the fellow depicted him wielding various firearms and performing physical feats of strength. Following these slides, a series of gory photographs showed mutilated soldiers and also the remains of doctors or lab technicians. James sensed Murnau fidgeting beside him.

"Allow me to introduce you to Vampire Unit 17, a.k.a. Gregory Herod. 17 was a former paratrooper with the R.A.F. when he was paralyzed from the neck down after a parachute malfunction."

"We chose him for the V-Program, ahem-- " Murnau took over speaking now, with an unsteady voice and quivering hands, "based on his prior skills in marksmanship, conditioning, and close quarters combat. Captains, uhh, let's see, Collins and Everett-- " Murnau nodded towards the two younger men in the room, "who served alongside him, can tell you about the kind of soldier we are dealing with."

One of the paratroopers stood. "He was an absolute machine in camp. Nobody could hold a candle to him in P.T. Damn shame, what happened."

"Complete asshole, though if you’ll pardon my French," added the other.

Murnau flashed that grim look of his in the troopers' direction. "All this to say, although we’re dealing with a single target, I would advise you not to take him lightly."

"On September 23, Unit 17 went mad and killed his superior officers and the doctors at his training facility,” Brown said. “Since then, the bastard's been running amok around the Cotswolds. He was last spotted in a small town called Dumbleton."

So, they were sending James to cow country this time, it seemed. Not the greatest of adventures, but perhaps leaving the base for a short spell would be nice. Maybe longer if they couldn’t find him. The lad could’ve gone anywhere. James guessed none of them realized how fast a vampire could get from place to place, even on foot.

"The bloodsucker's made the town his own, twisted playground, killing any man who gets in his way." Brown said, and scowled towards Sir Carpenter.

And there it was. Bloodsucker. Yet another anti-vamp in the ranks of the service. And they promoted him all the way to General? It wasn’t too far off from the derogatory term the Germans used for vampires, zecken, which meant tick.

James took another sip of his O-negative. He wouldn’t leave the room without first destroying this man, Brown. "Oh, cutting him open, sticking him with syringes, running him ragged with drills all day and night. I simply cannot fathom what has possibly upset the bloody rascal."

General Brown, amazingly, became several shades redder. The big man bent down to look James squarely in the eyes.

James didn’t blink. Didn’t recline one inch in his chair. "Did you fools truly believe that the V-Program would work out smoothly? We vampires may be superb predators, but that doesn't make us weapons one can simply mass produce. I warned you people that this abominable program would go sour from its very inception!"

"Oh, I agree, Sir Carpenter," General Brown spat, getting so close to James' face that the moisture of the big man's breath hit him. "In fact, if I had my way, none of your savage kind would be in the king's army!"

James now saw in this portly, sweaty oaf the faces of the hundreds-- perhaps thousands of unenlightened bigots like him that he had been forced to endure over his many years. He took another drink of his bloodwine, finishing the glass. He collected his nerves and stood. Even the strange foreigner, who had been taking in the briefing with a glazed, ‘I wonder what's for dinner?’ expression, watched their confrontation with piqued eyes.

With more than sufficient ammunition to show the neanderthal his proper place, James cleared his throat. "Let me assure you, this Mr. Herod and I are not of the same kind. I have been a vampire for centuries, and was turned into one properly-- not produced in some laboratory. Furthermore, in your position, I would not be hurling insults, as I do believe you’ll be needing my help to mop up this mess. The mess that you and the rest of this establishment have created without any inkling as to what you’re dealing with!"

The room fell silent. General Brown had turned cherry red and could no longer look James in the eyes. He could sense Murnau wriggling like a worm in the chair beside him, confirming his suspicion that the man was involved in all of this somehow.

The rest of the high-ranking officials were either suddenly interested in the layout of the floor tiles, or had also been shaken by the vampire's harsh rebuke. Only one soul in the room remained with their chin up, the silent Asian.

She stared into Sir James’ eyes fiercely, wearing a far more frightening than friendly grin. "You seem sure of yourself, Sir Carpenter. But are you so eager to hunt down and kill your own kind?"

So she could speak English after all, the minx.

"Not at all. I have no intention of harming the young man."

James’ declaration produced some shock in the room, some officers stood to face him.

She snorted. “After all of that talk you’re backing down?”

"Herod may have been a grown, human man before his procedures, but as a vampire, he's barely out of his britches. He needs a mentor, like I had growing up, to help him develop into a proper vampire. I believe I could fill that role quite adequately."

"What is this bleeding heart drivel?" the Asian woman scoffed.

"We appreciate the sentiment, Sir Carpenter, but that is impossible," Murnau said from out of nowhere. He seemed to have regained some of his nerves. "Unit 17 is completely beyond reason. It's gone beyond survival tactics for him now. He kills for sport. Your orders are to exterminate him. Period. End of story. Is that understood, Sir Carpenter?"

For the first time, James took what Murnau said seriously. He paused before responding.

"I realize you're all concerned, and for some of you, not just for your own necks. However, none of you know what it's like being a vampire. When I was young, I too experienced violent urges. Although his outbursts are...unique, with proper training, he can control his rage. Herod is not beyond redemption. This, I can assure you."

James' speech did little to convince the room. The generals all mumbled support for Murnau's stern order under their breath. James needed to take a new approach.

"Our government spends heaps of manpower and capital into the V-Program; meaning Herod is still a tremendous asset if he can be tamed, correct?"

"If,” echoed the foreigner. “The reality is that vampires cannot be trusted as soldiers. Unit 17 is not the first vampire to turn into a murderous lecher, and he won’t be the last."

James paused for a moment. “What makes you think he’s a lecher?”

“Because they always are.”

"You certainly claim to know a lot about vampires, miss. I think it's due time you introduced yourself. Who exactly are you?"

Without hesitating, she stood, taking care to not knock her swords against the underside of the table, and bowed before the group of military men.

"I am Sleeping Dragon of the Fire-Breathing Twin Dragons. My sister and I hunt vampires for a living. I look forward to working with you, sir." She switched to her mother tongue, which James didn't understand, "Yoroshiku onegai shimasu."

Sleeping Dragon sat again, wearing a devilish, confident smile as James gawked at her. And at the table. The unmitigated gall of these humans!

"Working with me? Get this strumpet out of my sight!”

Murnau put his hand on James’ chest. "Now, Sir Carpenter, we've commissioned Miss Dragon to be your backup for the duration of Operation Aegis. Her experience and knowledge-- "

James' cheeks flared up. After all of his talk of controlling rage, he now felt like letting it fly. The brass had crossed a line this time.

He brushed Murnau’s hand away and pointed at Sleeping Dragon. "Murnau, under no circumstances will I be accompanying a common mercenary into battle, let alone a bloody vampire hunter!"